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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105498">Once Upon A December (aka a b99 Anastasia au)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/meepmorpperaltiago/pseuds/meepmorpperaltiago'>meepmorpperaltiago</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amnesia, F/M, Implied Past Violence, Mystery, brief mentions of gunfire, dark themes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:01:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/meepmorpperaltiago/pseuds/meepmorpperaltiago</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy comes into Jake’s life with with no memories and a mysterious past: as their relationship depends, they find out that her origins are grander than they ever could’ve imagined</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok so last week I was low key obsessing over the Broadway version of Anastasia and I decided to write this b99 au – I hope you like part one 😊</p><p>Disclaimer: although police officers feature as characters here, this is a work of fiction based on another work of fiction (which in itself needs to be engaged with critically) and I entirely acknowledge that it in no way reflects the reality of policing. Please don’t let it inform your opinions of real life cops – it hasn’t been written with that intention.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He still remembers the first time she’d told him that she had had amnesia since she was a teenager, that she didn’t know who she’d been before then. It was when she’d first arrived at the precinct, with her neat bob and a seemingly endless number of binders and he’d wanted to ask so many questions. But even he had had enough tact to not immediately bombard her with all of them. Even though he had wanted to. So much. </p><p>The next time it came up was the first time he‘d visited her apartment. They’d built up a fiery fierce and rock solid friendship at that stage and he hadn’t blinked when she’d invited him over on a shared day off.</p><p>It had caught his eye as soon as he’d sat down in her living room: a medium sized music box encrusted with sparkling diamonds, more opulent than anything he’d ever seen. She sees him staring and picks it up, a nostalgic expression crossing her face. </p><p>“I’ve had this for as far back as I can remember – it was in my coat when I woke up, but I’ve never been able to get it open”, she says wistfully, her fingers tracing its sides. </p><p>“Is it all you remember?”, he asks curiously, leaning in to look more closely at the elegantly placed crystals. She shies away at that, speaking in a more subdued tone. </p><p>“I have dreams sometimes... shadows, light at the end of a hall... sometimes I think I see gunshots or hear screams...” With that, she stops for a second, as if she’s drifted to another world. Then she grows tense and swiftly puts the box down, and he doesn’t bring it up again. </p><p>Time passes and as they grow closer, he learns more about her time in foster care and she opens up about the PTSD she doesn’t fully understand. She also listens to him talk about his dad and the slightly more normal problems of his family. </p><p>Soon enough, he begins to accept that the mystery of Amy’s past is just part of who she is. They go through Teddy, (who never quite understood her situation) and Sophia (who’s life just couldn’t gel with Jake’s). They go through Dave Majors and awkwardness and fake dates and three kisses, until finally, finally, they slot together in the way they were meant to. </p><p>Things tick along like they always have, until one day when she decides to clear up her shelf one morning, about a month after they move in together. Everything is normal, until she accidentally knocks the beautiful music box off the shelf. It being a precious part of her past and with him knowing how much it means to her, he rushes forward she yells out for a second; until it opens as it hits the ground and starts to play a lilting tune. Something shifts in her face and she picks it up gingerly. </p><p>As he goes closer, he hears that’s she’s quietly singing, transported to another time.</p><p>“Over the wind, across the sea, hear this song and remember, soon you’ll be home with me, once upon a December...” </p><p>She stands still and the room is heavy with silence, until Jake finally breaks it. </p><p>“How do you know that song?” </p><p>“I... I don’t know...”, she replies, a shaking  hand raised to her mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Soon more fragments of her past begin to emerge for the first time in years; she remembers rustles of satin skirts, gilded golden ceilings, the perfume of an older woman whose face she still can’t produce. </p><p>One night as they go to bed, she tells him that, for the first time since she found herself in New York with no memories, she wants to look into her past. </p><p>“Since I’ve never fully got my memories back, I just wanted to focus on building a new life for myself. But this is a part of me that’s always been missing... I need to know what all these little pieces mean.” </p><p>“I understand”, he says softly, gently taking both her hands in his and kissing them.</p><p>“One of the only things I remember is gunfire, I don’t think my story is going to be a happy one...”, she replies, sitting back on her pillows. </p><p>“Well whatever you find out, I’ll be here”. She smiles gratefully at that. </p><p>“Hey, how about we start with the music box? If we find out where it comes from, we could find out where you come from”. </p><p>Before either of them know it, they’re stood in a jewellery store, with an expert holding her past in his hands. “Looking at the design and the age, this most likely would’ve come from Iago, pre-revolution. In fact it would’ve almost definitely come from a member of the aristocracy.” </p><p>“Ames, that totally makes sense with your memories! You’ve remembered a bunch of fancy stuff, right?” </p><p>“Yeah I did”, Amy says slowly, still trying to process it all.</p><p>“Do you remember anything else?”, the man asks, still looking carefully at the box. </p><p>She sighs before answering him. “I remember a corridor and gunshots. I’ve been having nightmares about it since I was found” </p><p>He pauses, thinking carefully about his next words. “After the revolution, as well as the royal family, many members of the aristocracy who were unable to flee were executed by the new regime”  </p><p>As he says this, Amy falls back in horror; he knows by now the spaced out look in her eyes which means she’s being drawn back into fragmented memories and as she raises a shaking hand to her face he ushers her away into the first room he sees as the expert nods in approval, clearly seeing that they need a quiet corner. </p><p>“I... I remember... I don’t remember who they were, but I remember what happened to my family...“</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m so sorry that this chapter took so long, but I hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake doesn’t push too hard when they get home. Whatever she’s remembered, it’s clear from the moment she enters the spare room that she doesn’t feel ready to delve too far into it, at least for the time being.</p><p>Luckily knows her well enough at this point to know exactly how to lift her mood, even a little. And with a combination of Polish food, Property Brothers and a fresh newspaper with a crossword just waiting to be completed inside, she warms up just the tiniest bit. Then, she takes a deep breath and begins to speak. </p><p>“They were executed. My family, I mean.”</p><p>“Ames...”, he stops her, not wanting her to go deep into the events if it’s just going to upset her. </p><p>“No, no it’s ok. I just wish I could remember their faces, who they were, not just...” </p><p>With that, he opens his arms, she dives in and they both fall asleep to the sound of the channel that neither of them were really watching anyway. </p><p> </p><p>Later that night, a sudden noise from outside stirs Jake from his sleep. He looks down and sees that Amy is still fast asleep and decides not to wake her: after what she’s been through, she needs to sleep. But as an ever energetic ball of energy, he finds it hard to rest, so he turns on the captions of the documentary that seems to now be playing on tv whilst also silently playing on his phone. </p><p>He doesn’t pay much attention, until something entirely unexpected catches his eye: amongst others, Amy’s face is on the screen, dressed in fine clothes, along with what looks like the rest of her family. Still trying to not wake her, he carefully pushes the remote and gasps when he sees the name of the programme currently playing: “St. Iago’s Lost Royal Family”. </p><p>He doesn’t tell her right away the next morning, twisting the words around in his mind, trying to find the way to tell her what he saw, especially given what she’d been through the day before. </p><p>Both Jake and Amy have a shared day off and they spend the morning quietly, Amy filling out her crossword while Jake plays Candy Crush. After they’ve had lunch, he sits her down on the couch and gently tells her that, after they both fell asleep last night, he woke up and saw something on tv that she needs to see. She looks apprehensive as he turns it on and when she sees herself on the screen, she has the same look of shock that she had when she ran away in the jewellery shop. </p><p>-</p><p>The next few hours all blur into a mess of Amy spinning the music box in her hand whilst Jake continually hovers to check that she’s ok, his protective instinct taking over as they limply attempt make painfully stilted conversation. </p><p>“So my real name is Anna huh?” </p><p>“Yeah I guess so”</p><p>“That’s weird”</p><p>“Yeah”</p><p>“So... what do we do now?”, Amy asks after a pause that seems to stretch on forever. </p><p>“That’s up to you”, Jake gently responds. “That documentary said that your grandmother is still alive – do you want to try and find her?”</p><p>“Yes” Amy answers firmly. “I know it sounds so corny, but I feel like I need to fit these pieces of my life together.” </p><p>“Hey you just had life altering news, you’re allowed to be corny”, he says, going to kiss her forehead. </p><p>“How did I get so lucky?” she responds softly, holding him close. </p><p>-</p><p>It’s not until they’re almost at the end of thief train journey that he seriously considers the possibility that he’s going to lose her. Neither of them know for certain what the future will hold, but he can imagine that if she chooses to stay with her grandmother that, as painful as it may be, they may have to go their separate ways. </p><p>But then he looks down, to her head resting on his shoulder and he knows that as long as she finds where she belongs, that’s all that matters to him.</p>
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